Undead Like Me
by Dead Composer
Summary: Treehouse of Horror. Lisa's about to discover that having a vampire boyfriend can really suck.
1. Chapter 1

"This is Kent Brockman reporting for Channel 6 News. President-elect John McCain revealed today that he has been receiving chemotherapy treatments for pancreatic cancer. I'm here on Pennsylvania Avenue, talking to one of the approximately seven thousand people who have lined up to offer their bone marrow…"

"Oh my God," said Marge with concern. "If McCain kicks the bucket, we'll be left with a vacuum in the White House."

Homer, one hand dipped in his favorite bag of potato chips, glanced over at his wife. "You don't normally watch the news," he remarked.

"You're right, I don't," said Marge. "But with the economy collapsing and the stock market shooting up and down, I've got to stay up to date on what's happening to my Enron shares."

"Senate Republicans have come forward with a bill officially blaming the Democrats for the economic crisis," Brockman continued. "Senate Democrats countered with a bill of their own…"

"Hey, where's Lisa?" Homer suddenly asked. "I haven't heard any saxomophone music since she came home from school. She didn't die without telling us, did she?"

"No, Lisa's fine," Marge assured him. "She's so engrossed in her vampire books, she's given up pretty much every other activity—eating, sleeping, even homework."

One floor above their heads, Lisa lay across her mattress with her nose, eyes, and brain buried deep within an obsidian-hued tome entitled, _Unnerving Darkness_. Her pupils flitted back and forth across the paragraphs as her stomach grumbled vainly. "Oh, rapture," she gushed to herself. "I _so_ envy you, Della, having such a handsome and charming vampire for a boyfriend. If only vampires were real, and not monstrously evil."

Bart poked his nonchalant face through the doorway, asking, "Whatcha readin', Lis?"

She could only smile at him. "It's _Unnerving Darkness_, the sequel to _The Black Finger of Night_, _Shadows in the Gloom_, and _Who Turned Out the Lights?_."

"Humph," said Bart arrogantly. "Book sequels suck. They're not awesome like movie sequels."

"You're right, it _does_ suck," said Lisa, stifling a giggle. "Because it's about vampires."

"Once again, humph," said Bart. "I was a vampire once. Couldn't change back fast enough. If I want to drink blood, I'll go to the dentist."

* * *

The following morning on the school bus, Lisa's friend Janey accosted her as she stared, waxy-eyed, at her book. "Is that the latest volume in Melenie Twyer's vampire series?" Janey asked excitedly.

"Er, yes," said Lisa, her tone sheepish. "But…but I'm not reading it for pleasure. I'm writing an extra-credit report for Miss Hoover on how blatantly commercial, not to mention poorly written, these books are. I mean, look at the cover…the author can't even spell her own _name_ right. 'Melanie' is spelled with an _a_."

"Gee, I wish _I_ had a vampire boyfriend," said Janey dreamily.

"_Every_ girl wishes for that," Lisa lectured her. "It's the latest fad—sexy, non-threatening boys who happen to be undead. Melenie Twyer found a vein, and she tapped it."

Milhouse, his arms folded behind Lisa's head, trained his spectacles on her reading material. "I just _love_ those stories," he said, grinning.

"Do you mind?" said Lisa, glancing over her shoulder at the boy.

"Eduardo is everything I'll _never_ be," said Milhouse wistfully. "He's confident, he's assertive…"

"He's _straight_," Nelson chimed in, and the kids in the bus erupted into laughter.

"Knock it off!" said Milhouse, his voice almost a whimper. "I'm not gay! Kiss me, Lisa. Show them."

* * *

"The doctor says I have something called Asparagus Syndrome," said Ralph to the assembled children. "He says that's why I'll never have a normal life. My mom uses four different kinds of soap. Thank you."

Once Ralph had seated himself, Miss Hoover invited another student to the front. "Boys and girls, I'd like you to meet Vladimir Estragon," said the teacher. "Vladimir just moved to Springfield from…where, again?"

"I am from the former Soviet republic of Karjakistan," said the boy with a slight accent. He had shiny, flaxen hair that ascended to a point, blue eyes that appeared to reflect the sky on a summer day, and bleach-pale skin. "Please forgive my English. I am new to this country, and have not yet mastered the use of verbal contractions."

Lisa gazed at the lad as if her eyes were fixed in place by magnets. _I used to think all boys were the same, but there's something different about this one_, she thought. _I'm not sure what it is, but when I look at him, I can't help wishing I was five years older…_

* * *

To be continued


	2. Chapter 2

During the lunch break, Lisa spotted the young foreigner at the back of the cafeteria line. Tiptoeing up behind him, she tapped his shoulder and said bashfully, "Hi, Vladimir."

As the lad turned around, not only his eyes but his entire _face_ seemed to pierce her soul. "Ah," he said liltingly. "You are Lisa Simpson, are you not?"

"Er, yes," she replied, chuckling to hide the thrill she felt that he knew her name.

"You are, as they say, a nerd," said Vladimir with a cold, but not unfriendly, tone.

_Oh my God, even the exchange students know I'm a nerd_, thought Lisa, her heart plummeting. _Do I give off nerdy pheromones, or what?_

"You have, as they say, a big butt," Vladimir went on, "which is a result of eating, as they say, too many birthday cakes."

It dawned on Lisa what was odd about the boy's speech. "Wait a minute," she interrupted him. "As _who_ says?"

Vladimir pointed a clammy-looking finger at a table where Sherri and Terri exchanged gossip from opposite ends. "As _they_ say," was his response.

"Hmm," said Lisa, narrowing her eyes.

He made a hint of a smile. "They say such things because they are jealous," he said, reaching stiffly for a food tray.

"Jealous of _me?_" said Lisa.

"Yes," said Vladimir. "They are two of a kind, but _you_ are unique."

_He called me unique_, Lisa gushed to herself. _My heart hasn't pounded so wildly since I was accepted into Mensa!_

Vladimir looked up at a visage even more grim and death-like than his own, that of Lunch Lady Doris. "What'll it be, Igor?" she rasped.

He glanced over the culinary selections—a brown mass that was labeled MYSTERY MEAT, and a scarlet ooze identified as MYSTERY VEGETABLE. "I will have the red okra, please," he stated.

"The _what?_" said Doris, taken aback.

"What you call 'Mystery Vegetable' is called red okra in my country," Vladimir explained. "And what you call 'Mystery Meat' is also known as textured soy protein."

The cafeteria lady gave the earnest-faced boy a blank stare. "I'll be damned," was all she managed.

The kids ahead of Vladimir whirled, their jaws hanging in stupefaction. "He…he…" stammered Lewis. "He _knows_ what the mystery meat is!"

"Textured soy protein, huh?" said Nelson. "Now I'm _angry._"

"I thought it was giraffe," said Ralph disappointedly.

"Aaaagh!" cried Database. "Now that we know, we'll be killed!"

After the excitement had died down, Lisa joined Vladimir at a nearby table. "What you did was amazing," she complimented him. "I wouldn't have guessed red okra in a million years. I was close on the mystery meat, though. My guess was _hydrolyzed_ soy protein."

Vladimir grinned and took an eager bite of the okra on his plate. "This is delicious," he remarked. "It is also a very pleasing shade of red."

Lisa sighed happily. "Tell me about Karjakistan," she urged him. "I thought I knew _all_ the former Soviet republics, but that's one I've never heard of."

He hardly paused between bites as he spoke. "Karjakistanis are renowned for their laziness," he related. "They did not officially separate from the Soviet Union until fifteen years after the breakup. There is still a statue of Lenin in my town square, but nobody wants to tear it down."

"Really," said Lisa. "How interesting."

"I lived on a vegetable farm in the capital city," Vladimiar went on. "My parents taught me how to plant and grow all kinds of vegetables, and about the nutrients they contain."

"Wow," said Lisa, astonished. "I guess you're an expert, then."

Vladimir nodded. "All the vitamins and minerals we need to live are in the soil," he said with conviction. "It is not necessary to kill any living thing."

Lisa's eyes went wide. "You're a _vegetarian_," she enthused. "So am _I!_"

He smiled broadly, flashing his prominent canine teeth. "It is good to meet an American vegetarian," he said. "Before I left Karjakistan, I believed that Americans ate meat from the bone for every meal."

"Believe it or not, there are _tons_ of vegetarians here," Lisa told him. "Paul McCartney's one, and so are Shania Twain, and Richard Gere, and Bob Dylan, and Martina Navratilova, and Tom Cruise, and…"

"Tom Cruise?" Vladimir's face lit up. "He is my favorite movie star. He is wonderful when he plays a vampire."

"Don't get _me_ started on vampires," said Lisa. "I only wish they were real."

The boy's voice took on a serious tone. "Karjakistanis are very superstitious. They believe that vampires live in the hills, and come down at night to drink the blood of the living."

"Do _you_ believe any of that?" Lisa asked him.

Vladimir shook his head. "Not all vampires are the same. Some merely want to be _accepted_."

* * *

To be continued


	3. Chapter 3

Later in the afternoon, as Lisa pored over Chapter 23 of _Unnerving Darkness_ while on a bench near the playground, a trio of toughs confronted her. "Hey, Bart's sister," said Dolph with a haughty air. "We saw you talking to that African kid in the cafeteria."

"He's not African," said the girl coolly. "He's from Asia."

"Whatever country he's from," said Jimbo, "I'd stay away from him if I were you. I mean, who knows what diseases he brought with him? Hepatitis, tuberculosis, genital herpes…"

Lisa inserted a Malibu Stacy bookmark between the pages before carefully closing her book. "I'm not the least bit worried," she told the youth. "After all, I'm obviously immune to everything _you_ carry."

Jimbo made the expression of a deer gaping at a UFO. "She just dissed you, man," said Kearney to his long-haired friend. "Are you gonna let that stand?"

"No way, dude," said Jimbo with resolve. "Let's teach her a lesson."

"Yeah," said Dolph, nodding. "And when we're done, let's beat her up."

"Ga-hoy," said Lisa, tugging at her collar. "You wouldn't hurt a _girl_, would you?"

The three boys looked at each other. "She's got us, dudes," said Kearney. "How are we gonna justify this to the Bullies' Union?"

"There's nothing in the charter that forbids attacking a girl _psychologically_," Dolph pointed out.

"Dude, you're right," said Jimbo. Aiming a wicked smirk towards Lisa, he snarled, "Your face looks like the mutant offspring of Ron Perlman and a warthog, your boobs will never get any bigger than they are, and nobody will ever, _ever_ want to marry you, except for Milhouse!"

"Stop it!" cried Lisa, squirming in agony. "For God's sake, _stop!_"

"Let _me_ have a shot," Kearney chimed in. "You could've saved the whales, Lisa. The pandas, too. Now they're all gone, and it's _your_ fault, because nobody will listen to a horse-faced little girl whose breath smells like a landfill after it rains!"

Lisa's anguished protests caught the attention of the kids on the jungle gym, including Vladimir, who hopped to the ground and hurried in her direction. "You will kindly stop tormenting Miss Lisa Simpson," he demanded of the three bullies.

"Looky there," said Dolph petulantly. "It's the boy who was kicked out of his own country for not flushing."

"Let's rip him to pieces," said Jimbo.

"Dibs on the drumsticks!" said Kearney.

They approached Vladimir with greedy hands, but he simply stared at them, his blue pupils seeming to hang in the air independently of his eyes. "You have to go to the little girls' room," he said in an eerie tone.

"Funky, man," said Jimbo, slowly backing away. "How's he doing that?"

"I dunno," said Kearney, "but I…I gotta powder my nose."

"Me, too," said Dolph. "Last one to the girls' room is a rotten egg!"

They scurried away, leaving Lisa alone with Vladimir and greatly astonished. "You…how'd you…" she struggled to say.

The Karjakistani lad grinned, his canines reflecting the sun. "The power of suggestion is an effective weapon against the weak-minded," he told Lisa.

"I don't believe it," said the girl, shaking her head.

"Allow me to demonstrate," said Vladimir. Peering strangely at her, he intoned, "You will stand up, you will come to me, and you will kiss me on the lips."

The words startled Lisa. "I'll do no such thing," she stated firmly. "Maybe in Karjakistan you can ask a girl you hardly know to kiss you, but in our country there's a little thing called _courtship_."

"You will come to me, and you will kiss me," the boy repeated.

"Hmph," said Lisa, folding her arms.

"Remarkable," said Vladimir, his expression softening. "Never before have I met a girl with so strong a will."

He turned on his heel, only to see Bart's face advancing toward him. The two boys' lips pressed together awkwardly.

"What the…" Lisa blurted out in horror.

The kiss ended as quickly as it had begun. Bart blinked a few times and strained to keep his jaw from falling. "I, uh, have no idea why I didn't do the thing I didn't just do," he said, bewildered.

* * *

To be continued


	4. Chapter 4

Marge, worn out from several hours of non-stop housework, rested her chin on the tabletop and stared blearily at the label on a bottle of Mr. Clean. _Maybe if I rub it, he'll appear_, she thought hopefully.

Excited, high-pitched voices alerted her to the return of Bart and Lisa. Putting on her best "proud mother" face, she shuffled to the living room, where her children were haphazardly setting down their books and folders. "Hi, Mom," Lisa greeted her. "I met the _coolest_ boy today."

"Wonderful!" gushed Marge. "Is he cooler than Theophilus?"

"He's even cooler than Colin," Lisa told her.

Marge delivered a kiss to her cheek. "As you get older, you'll find that the boys get cooler and cooler," she said wistfully. "Then one day, one glorious day, you'll meet the coolest boy of all…and you'll have an affair with him." She looked over at her special little guy. "How was _your_ day, Bart?"

"I learned something amazing," he reported.

"Let's hear it," said Marge.

"Do you know why you don't give girls wedgies?" said Bart.

"Let's _not_ hear it," said Marge.

As she started to ascend the stairway, Lisa paused. "Mom," she inquired, "have you ever heard of a former Soviet republic called Karjakistan?"

"Uh…" said Marge, searching her memory. "No, I haven't. Are you sure it's not a _breakaway_ republic?"

Without even thinking of re-opening her Melenie Twyer book, Lisa jumped in front of her desk and quickly logged on to her Internet account. "Welcome, Lisa Simpson," uttered a voice that reminded her strongly of Tress MacNeille. "You have 74 new messages. Stephen Hawking has added you to his Facebook."

"Delete, delete, save, delete, save, delete, _eradicate_, delete," the girl muttered. Having made short work of her E-mail, she typed the name _Karjakistan_ into a Google window and expectantly pressed Enter.

_No matches found_, the computer replied.

"No matches?" said Lisa incredulously and aloud. She performed a search on the name again.

_Still no matches, _said Google_. Try asking your mother._

"It doesn't exist," she said, astonished. "It's a made-up place, like Christian heaven. Why would Vladimir lie?"

"For the same reason _any_ man lies," said Bart, materializing behind her shoulder. "He wants to get into your knickers."

Lisa spun around. "He does _not_," she said indignantly. "And you're too young to know what that expression means."

"_I_ got into your knickers once," said Bart cockily. "They didn't fit me."

"At least I didn't _kiss_ him," said Lisa in a mocking tone. "What was that all about, anyway?"

"I really don't know," Bart replied, "but I'm working on a theory, based on parallel universes." He leaned over for a closer look at Lisa's computer display. "Karjakistan, huh? Sounds like the sort of thing a demented fan fiction writer would dream up."

"There could be any number of reasons," mused Lisa. "He's in the Witness Protection Program. His parents are secret agents. He's a vampire. He's a time traveler from the future, here to warn us about…"

"Hold up, Lis," Bart interjected. "What was that last one you mentioned?"

"He's a vampire?"

"No, _before_ that."

"His parents are…"

"Secret agents," said Bart ominously. "For all we know, he's the spawn of 007 and Agent 99. _Karjakistan_ could be a code word for an orbiting doomsday laser. You'd better not pursue this any further, unless you want Goldfinger on your ass."

Lisa flashed him a patronizing smile. "You're just paranoid, Bart. Tomorrow, when we visit the Estragons, you'll see that they're perfectly ordinary folks."

"Whoa," said Bart, waving his hands. "Did I sleep through the meeting where it was decided that we would do this?"

* * *

to be continued


	5. Chapter 5

The next encounter between Lisa and Vladimir took place a few minutes before the start of classes the next day. Bart came along for the ride, his initial reluctance overcome by Lisa's promise to give him her cupcake at lunch.

"Hi, Vladimir," said Lisa coyly. "Or do you prefer to be called Vlad?"

The pale boy with the upright hair showed little emotion. "Call me Vladimir, please," he replied. "The name Vlad carries with it much negative baggage."

"Okay, Vladimir," said Lisa, her heart wobbling. "Listen, Bart and I think it would be wonderful if we could, er…"

"What my sister means to say," Bart interjected, "is that she's unconditionally and irrevocably in love with you."

"Am not!" Lisa protested.

Vladimir eyed the pair curiously. "I find your interplay amusing," he remarked. "It is almost enough to inspire laughter."

Lisa grinned sheepishly. "What I'm _really_ trying to say is, we'd like to meet your parents, if that's not a problem."

She waited, not daring to breathe, as the boy stared at her and she stared back. It seemed to her that his pupils were sinking back into his head, becoming ever more distant. _Am I being too forward?_ she wondered.

Finally, Vladimir cleared his throat. "That _is_ a problem," he stated, "for, you see, I have no parents."

Lisa allowed her tense body to relax. "Oh, you're an orphan," she said solicitously. "How awful for you."

"It is awful, yes," said Vladimir, his tone suggesting no sadness at all. "I was very young when they died."

"No parents, huh?" said Bart. "Sounds like a nice gig."

"Who do you live with, then?" Lisa inquired of the lad.

"My sister, Angelina," he answered.

"How old is your sister?"

"Umm, twelve," said Vladimir with uncertainty. "No, thirteen. Yes, she is thirteen years of age."

_Maybe she just had a birthday_, thought Lisa.

"I will call my sister," Vladimir offered. "Perhaps she will invite you to visit our home."

"Gosh, thanks," said Lisa, as the boy strutted away towards Miss Hoover's room.

"See ya, Vlad," said Bart, waving.

Lisa, putting a hand next to her mouth, whispered harshly, "He doesn't want you to call him Vlad."

Bart shrugged. "What's wrong with Vlad? It's short for Vladimir, right? Do I go around telling people to call me Bartholomew?"

"You know, don't you," said Lisa ominously, "that Vlad is Dracula's first name?"

"No kidding," said Bart. "I always thought it was Count."

* * *

Shortly after school let out, Marge transported Bart and Lisa in the family sedan to the apartment complex where Vlad lived with his sister, Angelina. "Have a good time with your new friend, kids," she said warmly. "And remember, if he offers you any alcohol, drugs, or junk bonds, don't accept."

"He's not _my_ friend, Mom," said Bart. "That kiss didn't mean a thing."

Lisa, having chosen to wear her pink Sunday dress and chapeau, and Bart, clad in his usual shorts-and-red-shirt combo, made their way into the building and rode the elevator to the thirteenth floor. The way to the Estragon residence took them through a featureless corridor with a decaying carpet and a heavy odor of cigarette smoke. "Yeesh, what a dive," commented Lisa. "I wouldn't feel safe living here, even if _I_ was thirteen."

Loud rap music blared through a doorway as they walked quickly past. Upon reaching apartment 1313, Lisa stepped forward boldly and pressed the doorbell button. A series of chimes followed, rendering a dirge-like melody.

"Hmm," mused Lisa. "That sounds familiar."

"It sure does," said Bart nervously. "It's the theme song to that show with the creepy family that lives in a big house with a zombie. _The Osbournes_."

"No, that's not it," said Lisa. "It's the _Dies Irae_, a medieval hymn that made up part of the Requiem Mass. The same melody has been used in many works of classical music, including the _Symphonie Fantastique_ of Berlioz, the _Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini_ by…"

"Shut up, Lisa's brain," said Bart flatly.

An instant later the door swung open, revealing a tall, rather thin preteen girl with cascading red locks. She wore a paisley blouse and skirt, her sandal-clad feet displayed polished toenails that matched her hair, and her skin was every bit as pallid as Vladimir's.

Her lips curved up into a smile. "Come in, Lisa, Bart," she welcomed them.

* * *

To be continued


	6. Chapter 6

Angelina Estragon's apartment was humble but immaculate. The only visible pieces of furniture were a purple leather couch capable of seating two, a well-varnished pine TV stand, and the TV that stood on it. The wallpaper showed no sign of age, and its regular, almost hypnotic spiral patterns suggested that a continuous piece had been pasted to each wall.

"Uh, nice place you have here," said Bart, admiring the polished hardwood floor.

"Thank you, Bart," said Angelina, her voice oozing familiarity. "Are you hungry? Help yourself to anything in the kitchen."

The pointy-haired boy nearly knocked her over in his rush to the refrigerator. Lisa followed him a few paces, then turned and asked Angelina, "You're from Karjakistan too, aren't you? How come you don't have an accent?"

She grinned pleasantly, her canine teeth overlapping her lower lip. "I've been living in this country longer than Vladimir has," she explained.

"And another thing," Lisa pressed her. "The two of you, living alone in this seedy apartment complex…aren't you afraid something bad will happen?"

"No," said Angelina, her tone somewhat more serious. "We can take care of ourselves."

Lisa, her concerns allayed, joined her brother in the kitchen. To her surprise, he hadn't yet stuffed his mouth with treats, but was gazing thoughtfully at the contents of the refrigerator, as if trying to solve a puzzle.

"Bart?" she said.

He turned his head in response. "Lis, since you're the brains of this operation, tell me if you notice something really weird about the food in there."

Intrigued, Lisa began to visually probe the items in the fridge. A loaf of bread…a block of cheese…a carton of milk…a package of sliced salami…a head of lettuce…a box of sugar cookies.

It dawned on her. "Omigosh, Bart, you're right," she marveled.

"Right about what?" said Angelina, towering over them from behind.

"None of this has been eaten," said Lisa, rotating to face the red-haired girl. "The milk carton's full, the bread hasn't been touched, the cheese hasn't been sliced…it's like you bought it all _today_. Did you just move in, or what?"

"That's easy to explain," said Angelina, her friendly guise unbroken. "The refrigerator broke down two days ago. All the food spoiled, so we had to replace it."

"That's good enough for _me_," said Bart as he greedily snatched up the cookie box.

"Uh, hold on," said Lisa. "Whenever _our_ fridge stops working, my mom throws in a big block of ice to keep everything cool." She yanked open the door to the freezer compartment. "A big block of ice just like _this_ one."

Angelina's pale face darkened a bit. "That's very clever," she said. "I wouldn't have thought to do that. In Karjakistan, refrigerators are a luxury."

"Speaking of Karjakistan," said Lisa suspiciously, "I did a Google search, and guess what? There _is_ no such place."

The redhead smiled stupidly and held her peace. "Lisa, we don't want to offend our hostess," said Bart through a mouthful of cookies.

A boy's voice cut through the tension. "Hello, Lisa."

There was Vladimir, still wearing his school outfit, gratifying Lisa's eyes with his calm presence. "Oh, hi," said the girl bashfully.

"You are very observant," he commended her. "Perhaps too observant for your own good."

Lisa and Bart swallowed anxiously.

Vladimir's staid expression gave way to a hearty chuckle. "I am joking, of course," he reassured them.

_If he's joking_, said Bart to himself, _then why are the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end?_

"Vladimir," said Lisa, hands behind her dress, "I'm not accusing you of anything, I'm just curious. Why make up a fictional country? Are you embarrassed about where you really come from? I can understand that, if you're from someplace like Kansas."

The boy moved toward her, and before Lisa realized what was happening, their fingers were intertwined. An inexplicable warmth spread through her bosom. _He's so sweet and handsome_, she thought. _But it's not like me to fall head over heels for a boy I hardly know. Where is this coming from?_

Angelina looked at her younger brother, and her eyes took on a slight tinge of red. "What do you think, Vladimir? Can we trust these mortals with our secret?"

"I trust Lisa," said the lad without hesitation.

"Hey, who're you calling a mortal?" Bart snapped. "I'll have you know that I jumped Springfield Gorge on a skateboard and lived to tell the tale."

Lisa, snapping out of her reverie, asked, "What's all this about mortals? If you're not mortals, what _are_ you?"

"If you're so smart," said Angelina playfully, "then why haven't you figured it out already?"

"Lisa's mind is very ordered and logical," Vladimir pointed out to his sister. "It is hard for her to accept the existence of creatures such as ourselves."

"Creatures…?" said Lisa, stepping away.

"You need a hint?" said Angelina with a fiery glare. "Okay. Rent the movie _Juno_, and while you're watching it, pay close attention during the end credits."

"Huh?" said Bart, utterly lost.

"I'm only eight," said Lisa to the imposing girl. "My parents don't let me watch PG-13 movies. So unless you're a pregnant teenager, I'm afraid you'll have to spell it out for me."

"I'll _sing_ it for you," said Angelina. "I am a vampire, I am a vampire, I am a vampire…"

"Oh boy," said Bart.

"Wait," said Lisa quietly. "Are you trying to tell me…that you're a _vampire?_"

* * *

to be continued


	7. Chapter 7

Angelina led Bart and Lisa into her bedroom, whose walls were generously decorated with pictures of landmarks from around the world. Lisa's attention was grabbed by a poster attached to one wall, on which were printed two simple words, FREE TIBET. To her consternation, a second poster stood to the right of the first, bearing the slogan…

"Free China?" she blurted out.

"It's complicated," said Angelina. "Don't ask me to explain."

While Bart examined a stack of laminated baseball cards that appeared to date back to the 50's, Lisa sat on the edge of Angelina's bed, holding hands with Vladimir and bombarding the red-haired girl with questions. "I can't help but notice that there's a nice, soft mattress underneath my butt. If you really are a vampire, then shouldn't you sleep in a _coffin_ instead?"

Angelina laughed dismissively. "You're thinking of what we call the _Stoker vampire_—can't stand garlic, terrified of crucifixes, works best at night. Totally fictional."

"As much as I love to _read_ about vampires," said Lisa maturely, "still, my rational mind can't accept that they exist in the real world. If you want to convince me, you'll have to provide some concrete evidence."

Angelina shot a knowing grin at Vladimir. Then she snapped her fingers, and as if on cue, both the bedroom window and the blinds covering it flew upwards, exposing the room to the full light of the sun.

"Huh?" said Lisa, alarmed. "How'd you…"

She felt Vladimir's hand tugging on her fingers, and all at once, gravity forsook her. The boy with the glowing blue eyes flew ahead of her, leading her over the currents of air and directly through the window, which seemed to fall away as she passed. By the time her mind was cleared of the euphoria of flight, she was hundreds of feet above the ground, the trees dwindling into matchsticks below.

"What the _heck?_" she cried, the wind blowing vainly against her face. "You're flying! You can fly! _I_ can fly!"

Bart and Angelina watched them vanish into the firmament. "They make such a cute couple," gushed Angelina. "Don't you agree, Bart?"

"Humina humina humina," the boy mumbled.

Lisa felt no fear at all, somehow certain that Vladimir's grip on her hand would never fail. "Omigosh," she said, her arms spread out like an eagle's wings. "You _are_ a vampire. I shouldn't have doubted you."

"Your skepticism is understandable," said the boy, his eyes fixed intently on the horizon.

"Correct me if I'm wrong," said Lisa as they sailed over the local Krusty Burger, "but don't vampires drink the blood of the living?"

"_Some_ vampires do," replied Vladimir, "but Angelina and I do not. We are _vegetarian_ vampires."

Lisa coughed a bit as the Springfield Tire Fire passed by far below. "Is it really that easy?" she wanted to know. "I mean, doesn't your vampire nature make you _want_ to drink blood?"

"The bloodthirst is common to all vampires," Vladimir told her, "but it can be controlled."

As they zipped over the spectacular vistas of Springfield Gorge, Lisa said, "This is so weird. Here I am, hand in hand with a genuine vampire. I should be terrified, but I've never felt happier. You're not using some sort of demonic mind control on me, are you?"

"If I were," said Vladimir, "would you want me to stop?"

Lisa pondered his question as her hair points flapped wildly in the breeze. "No," was her response.

All along Evergreen Terrace, the townspeople looked up in wonder as Lisa and Vladimir soared by. "It's a bird!" exclaimed Milhouse.

"It's a plane!" cried Nelson.

They both glared at Martin, expecting an observation from him. "Well?" he said with a shrug. "It's obviously either a bird or a plane, since anything else is scientifically unfeasible."

Nelson promptly punched him in the gut. "Ow!"

Professor Frink, armed with a pair of enhanced binoculars, scribbled furiously on a notepad as he traced the movements of the flying children. "Good glavin almighty! Unless my senses deceive me, those two school-age young people have discovered a way to nullify the effects of gravity, with the climbing and the diving and the zooming and the ever-present danger of falling to an all-too-probable death!"

Shortly, Vladimir and Lisa settled into a circular pattern around the summit of Mount Springfield. "The world looks so small from up here," remarked Lisa. "Since you're a vampire, I suppose _everything_ looks small to you, all the time."

Vladimir nodded. "More or less."

"What do you think of us mortals, Vladimir?" Lisa asked earnestly. "You won't drink our blood, so I imagine you must have _some_ respect for us."

"Your lives are so short," said the young vampire with a hint of regret. "But that is your choice. There was a time when we offered immortality to all mankind, but rather than accept it, they turned against us, hunted us, and tried to exterminate us."

Batting her eyelashes, Lisa uttered one more question: "What do you think of _me?_"

Vladimir gazed into her eyes, the sunshine reflecting from his sparkling skin. "I have great affection for you, Lisa Simpson," he admitted.

Lisa's entire nervous system nearly burst with delight. "Oh, Vladimir," she gushed. "I can't help myself anymore. I want you. _I love you._"

The boy pursed his lips, bright red and pulsating with life. Lisa, unable to resist the pounding of her heart, welded her own lips to his, and was rewarded with the purest sensation of softness she had ever known. Such was their passion as they kissed that a nearby flock of geese swooned and plummeted from the sky.

* * *

To be continued


	8. Chapter 8

"Now, then, Bart," said Angelina, turning a kind face to the boy, "do you think you can keep yourself from blabbing to all your friends about us being vampires, or would you rather I hypnotize you and make you forget what you've seen?"

Bart examined his soul for a moment, then replied, "I'll go with the hypnotism. While you're at it, could you make me forget that I ever kissed Vladimir?"

The redhead smiled and nodded. A wave of her hand sent Bart tumbling into a profound sleep…

…while atop Mount Springfield, Lisa and Vladimir, nestled among the honeysuckle bushes, kissed and caressed each other as if they would never have another chance to do so. "I can't resist you, Vladimir," said Lisa wistfully. "I don't _want_ to resist you. I know I'm only eight, but when I look into your eyes I can see my life laid out, and there's nothing else like this, and nobody else like you."

"I also am unable to resist _you_, Lisa," said Vladimir. "More than a hundred years have passed since I became a vampire, yet I have never met a girl with a mind and heart like yours. You are my destiny, Lisa Simpson."

"Oh, Vladimir," said Lisa, and she once again united her lips with his. _It's like my whole body is on fire_, she thought. _What did I do to be so lucky…to find true love, pure love, blinding love, at the tender age of eight?_

"You will go home now," said Angelina to the glassy-eyed Bart. "When you get there, you will tell your parents how much you love them, and then you will remember nothing."

"I…will remember nothing," said Bart obliviously.

After reluctantly withdrawing her lips, Lisa asked the question that had burned in her brain. "You say you _became_ a vampire. How does that work? What's the mechanism?"

Vladimir flashed her a toothy, pointy grin. "It is as your legends describe it," he related. "The instant a vampire pierces the neck of a mortal and begins to drain her blood, the transformation begins. The mortal may choose to surrender to it, in which case she is rendered undead, or she may fight it, in which case she typically develops flu-like symptoms or mild anemia."

"Does it _hurt_ to be a vampire?" Lisa asked him.

Vladimir, puzzled, replied, "I do not understand the question. Vampires _do_ feel pain like mortals do, but they cannot die, unless beheaded."

Lisa stared longingly at the handsome, sparkling lad. "Vladimir," she inquired seriously, "what if I asked you to turn _me_ into a vampire?"

His jaw fell, revealing a cavernous throat. "L-Lisa," he stammered, "you do not know what you are asking. Once you become a vampire, you _stay_ a vampire—you can never return to the life you knew."

"The life I know is a dead end," said Lisa with a scowl. "My father has had every job imaginable, except for one that pays well. Last week he interviewed for what he thought was a position as Alec Baldwin's personal assistant, only to find it was _Stephen_ Baldwin instead. And he _took_ it! At this rate I'll never make it into Bryn Mawr or Radcliffe. I'll end up instead at some lousy community college that only offers graduate degrees in home economics!"

Vladimir's expression became a downcast one. "No, Lisa," he said firmly. "I will not drink the blood of the girl I love."

"Then ask Angelina to do the dirty work," Lisa pressured him. "Or Spike, or Lestat, or whoever, I don't care." She scrutinized the boy's beautiful face. "Unless, of course, there's a _downside_ to vampire life that you haven't told me about."

"Mortals will fear you," Vladimir warned her. "Those you call your family and friends will shun you. You will lust after their blood."

"But you told me that can be controlled," said Lisa.

The young vampire nodded.

"So what's stopping you?" said Lisa, carefully unhooking her pearl necklace. "C'mon, I know you want to sink your fangs into my bare neck. I can see it in your eyes."

* * *

"Cindy, why are you crying?"

"It's not fair, Mommy! All the other kids have complexes, but I _don't!_"

The front door opened, prompting Homer to turn his head away from _The Brady Bunch_. "Oh, hi, boy," he said flatly.

"Hi, Dad," said Bart as he trudged along. "I love you."

"Enough of that gay talk," said Homer.

Lisa followed soon after, her countenance filled with worry. "Lisa, honey," responded Homer to the sight. "What's biting you?"

"Fortunately, _nothing_," said the girl, her voice quivering with guilt.

"Siddown and talk to me," said Homer, patting the cushion next to his butt.

Lisa jumped onto the couch, crawled on her knees toward her father, and began to weep profusely. "Oh, Dad," she said tearfully. "I very nearly made the worst decision of my _life!_"

"Did you sleep with Milhouse?" Homer asked her.

"No, Dad," replied Lisa.

"Did you sell your soul to the Devil?"

"No, Dad."

"Are you _sure_ you didn't sleep with Milhouse?"

"Yes, Dad."

"There, there," said Homer, pulling her to his ample bosom. "If you didn't sleep with Milhouse, and you didn't sell your soul to the Devil, then it's not worth crying about."

Lisa sniffled. "Thanks, Dad."

"In fact," Homer went on, "maybe it's not too late to go ahead and _do_ it."

Lisa stared at him with moist, incredulous eyes. "Where's Mom?" she asked.

* * *

To be continued


	9. Chapter 9

Lisa felt little comfort as she climbed the stairs. Before retiring to her room, she stepped up to Maggie's crib, hoping a baby's smile would brighten her evening. "Hey, Maggie, Maggie," she said to the tiny girl who peered at her over the bars.

But rather than smile, Maggie wailed so hard that her pacifier flew several feet.

"Oh, what's wrong?" said Lisa sweetly. She reached dutifully into the crib with both arms, but Maggie contorted her face, screamed forcefully, and wriggled away. _Holy crap_, thought Lisa. _I've never seen her like this. What did she do, swallow a porcupine?_

Seeing that Maggie refused to be calmed, Lisa shuffled away. Shortly thereafter, as she lay in bed reading the final chapter of _Unnerving Darkness_, her mother wandered in for a visit.

"Your father told me you were feeling blue," said Marge. "What's the matter? Did the Springfield Jazz Festival lose another one of its corporate sponsors?"

Lisa trained sorrow-filled eyes on her. "It's horrible, Mom. I'm in love with the most wonderful boy on the planet, but when I'm with him, I forget myself and turn into a reckless fool. I want so badly to see him again, but I don't dare."

"Oh, Lisa, Lisa," said Marge consolingly. "It doesn't hurt to be a little bit reckless now and then. Why, if I hadn't been reckless, you wouldn't have an older brother."

"Thanks, Mom," said Lisa facetiously. _I'll make sure to pass on that valuable moral lesson to my own daughters._

"Glad I could help," said Marge. _I wonder if birth control pills come in Flintstones shapes._

It was then that the blue-haired woman noticed something disconcerting. "You look a bit pale," she remarked. "Are you feeling all right?"

"Never felt better," said Lisa, trying to turn her attention to the book.

She felt warm fingers caressing her forehead. "You don't have a fever," said Marge. "I guess it's nothing."

Lisa managed to read a few more lines as her mother left the bedroom. _Ya know, I am feeling kinda weird_, she thought. _Maybe it's time to consult the mirror._

Leaving the book aside, she hopped down from the bed and walked to the full-length mirror. She was, indeed, somewhat pale, yet what struck her as odder still was that her reflection seemed…_distant_ somehow…as if she was looking at herself through a cloud of compressed emptiness.

_Creepy_, she mused. _I know I'm not sick. Or am I? I don't remember much of what happened with me and Vladimir on Mount Springfield, except for being happy beyond my wildest dreams. I do recall something about…flu-like symptoms, and mild anemia…omigosh, what if he _did_ suck my blood? Being a vampire, he could've easily put a mind whammy on me to make me forget…_

She detected no sign of bite marks on her foggy reflection. _How silly of me to suspect Vladimir_, she chided herself. _I trust him more than I trust my own life, or something like that. He'd never try to drink my blood without my consent…and why would I ever consent to that?_

A familiar jingle drifted up from the living room. _Maybe some Itchy and Scratchy cartoons will distract me_, she thought, taking leave of the mirror.

She found Bart on the couch, and settled down next to him. "Hi, Death…I mean, Lisa," quipped the boy.

"I'm not _that_ pale," she grumbled.

The episode title was _Eternal Itchiness of the Scratchy Mind_. Scratchy, despondent after breaking up with his girlfriend, timidly entered the Memory Erasure Clinic. Here Itchy, dressed in a scientist's smock and horn-rimmed glasses, strapped Scratchy to a table, attached electrodes to his temples, stuck a pump into his mouth, poked needles into his chest, switched on a computer display to monitor his vital signs, and finally, picked up a revolver and blew his brains out. The waveforms on the computer screen went completely flat. "Another satisfied customer," squeaked Itchy.

This was followed by a short called _Itchy Todd_, animated in dark Gothic hues. Itchy, a barber, was applying his razor to Scratchy's lathered face. Suddenly, in an orgy of unrestrained violence and wicked laughter, he slashed open Scratchy's throat, lopped off his nose, and sliced off his ears. Blood flew in every direction, staining the dingy windows of Itchy's establishment. In the final scene, Itchy held up a mirror to Scratchy's butchered head, and the cat screamed in horror at the sight of himself.

Bart convulsed with laughter. "Bwa ha ha ha!"

"B-b-blood," mumbled Lisa, her eyes fixated on the TV set. "Blooooood…"

"Bwa ha ha…huh?" Bart looked over at his apparently mesmerized sister. "You okay, Lis?"

The cartoons gave way to a repeat of _So You Think You Can Dance_. Lisa, once again aware of her surroundings, shook her head vigorously and leaped from the couch. "I gotta go," she said hastily.

Up the stairs she flew without so much as taking a breath. _When I saw that blood on the screen, I wanted to drench my hands in it, to lick it off my fingers_, she thought. _That's not the Lisa Simpson I know at all. What's happened to me?_

She glanced briefly at the crib where Maggie was sleeping, then proceeded into her own room, placing herself squarely in front of the tall mirror. What she saw, or rather what she _didn't_ see, was impossible on many levels.

_She had no reflection._

She screamed so loud that she drowned out Mary Murphy.

* * *

To be continued


	10. Chapter 10

"Oh my God!" cried Lisa in disbelief. She examined the mirror from every angle her neck allowed, and saw only differing views of her bedroom _without her in it_.

The scream brought Homer to the doorway, followed by Marge, Bart, and even Maggie. "Lisa honey!" exclaimed Homer. "What happened?"

Lisa by now had collapsed into sobs. "_That_ happened!" she wailed, pointing at the mirror that didn't point back.

Marge craned her neck for a look into the glass. "Okay, so you're a little paler than you were when I last saw you," she said impatiently. "Your face won't _stay_ like that, you know."

"I'll get the thermometer," offered Homer.

"I'll get the Vaseline," offered Bart.

"I feel _fine!_" Lisa insisted. _Are they blind? Are they stupid? Haven't they noticed that I'm not casting a reflection?_

Minutes later, Marge cradled the barely-warm thermometer in her fingers. "If this thing can be trusted, you have a body temperature of 89 degrees," she told Lisa.

"89 degrees…_Farenheit?_" said the astounded girl.

Marge gazed solicitously at her daughter. "Maybe it's best if you stay in bed and cover up tonight. I'll ask Dr. Hibbert to come over."

"Okay, if you say so," said Lisa, dragging a quilt over her dress and necklace.

"Wait a minute," said Marge, suddenly alarmed. "Show me your teeth, Lisa. Smile for me."

She grinned as toothily as she could, straining to widen her lips.

"I think your teeth may be growing crooked again," said her blue-haired mother. "You've got one sticking out on each side. I hope this doesn't mean _braces_ again."

Few words engendered more terror in Lisa's heart than _braces_. (Author's note: For the record, the only words that scare Lisa more than _braces_ are, in no particular order, _female circumcision_, _mastectomy_, and _shaving_.) Once Marge had departed, she took advantage of the privacy and started to probe her teeth with her fingers. It was as she had feared—not only had her canines assumed a more prominent position in her mouth, but their points had become _sharper_.

"Oh, God," she cried to herself. "Oh, Jesus, Buddha, Spongebob…please let this be a dream."

_I'd better call Vladimir_, she resolved. Tossing the quilt away, she reached for the telephone on the nightstand to her right. Here she was greeted with another shock, as the receiver rose up from its hook and _floated_ into her waiting hand.

"What the hell?" she blurted out. "I've got telekinesis now? What is this, _Heroes?_"

She dialed Vladimir's number, struggling all the while not to panic. After a few rings the boy responded, "Estragon residence."

"Vladimir!" she said frantically. "Something awful has happened! I think I'm a _vampire!_"

There was a brief silence. "Lisa," her boyfriend said in a cool tone, "not long ago you were _begging_ me to make you a vampire. You practically _threw_ yourself against my fangs."

The clouds in Lisa's mind turned to smog. "But…but…but I wasn't serious about it. I was so in love with you, I imagined how nice it would be if _I_ were a vampire too, so we could be together for all eternity. But I'd never actually _do_ something so crazy."

"Yes, you would, Lisa," said Vladimir matter-of-factly. "And you did."

Ice seemed to fill her throat as she spoke. "We…we _did_ it, didn't we? We went all the way. Why don't I remember?"

"Temporary amnesia is a common side effect of vampiric transformation," Vladimir informed her.

As the leaden truth sank in, Lisa found to her surprise that the dread and horror in her heart were dissipating, giving way to serene acceptance. "Okay, so I'm a vampire," she said into the phone. "What do I do now? Is there a manual?"

"As night falls, you will be afflicted with the bloodthirst," said Vladimir helpfully. "I will visit you soon, and teach you what you must know to resist it like Angelina and I do."

"I look forward to it," said Lisa. "I mean, your visit, not the bloodthirst. See you soon, Vladimir. I love you."

"I love you too, Lisa." The young vampire folded up his cell phone as his older sister watched. "I must go now, Angelina," he said quietly. "Lisa requires my help."

"You'd _better_ get over there," said the red-haired girl. "The bloodthirst's a real bitch for someone who never experienced it before."

* * *

To be continued


	11. Chapter 11

_Vladimir's coming!_ Lisa sang to herself, her bare feet scarcely touching the stairs as she descended. _He's coming! He's coming!_

Bart, his attention fixed on a dance number, suddenly watched his sister sail by at incredible speed. "Ay caramba," he marveled. "What're you doing, Lis, practicing to be a ghost?"

She zipped past him again, apparently floating on air. "Vladimir's coming!" she gushed. "The love of my life will soon arrive at my doorstep and hold me in his tender arms!"

"Whatever," said Bart lazily. "I don't know what it is about that kid that gets you so excited. We went to his house today, and it was boring as hell. Absolutely _nothing_ happened."

Lisa stopped to perform a few pirouettes on the carpet. "I'm so happy I could _die!_" she exulted.

"If you _do_ die, let us know," joked Bart, "because you're way beyond the point where we can tell just by looking at you."

Marge stepped into the living room, none too happy from her expression. "Lisa, you should be in bed," she said sternly.

"Bed?" said Lisa in disbelief. "How can I think of going to bed, when Vladimir will be here at any moment?"

Marge's blue haystack wobbled as she shook her head. "Playing with Vladimir is out of the question. You could pass on whatever you have to _him_."

"For the last time, Mom, I'm not sick," Lisa insisted. Clutching her bosom, she added, "Except with _love_."

"Enough out of you, missy," said Marge, waving threateningly the ladle in her hand. "Go to bed _now_, and stay there until Dr. Hibbert arrives."

As the words "Aw, Mom" formed in Lisa's brain, so did an idea. _I'm a vampire, right? Why should I let my parents push me around?_

Her eyes blazing a trail through the air to her mother's, she said boldly, "Vladimir is coming here, and you don't have a problem with that."

"Don't sass me, Lisa," said Marge, unruffled.

_Try harder_. "Look into my eyes," she said eerily. "Look deeply into my eyes." Pointing with her hand for emphasis, she went on, "You will let me do whatever I want. You will not scold me or punish me."

This time Marge's eyes lost their focus and glazed over. "I…I…" she mumbled. "I…will not…punish you…"

"Excellent," said Lisa. "When Vladimir comes, you will give him a big hug and lots of cookies and ice cream."

"I…will give him…a big hug," her mother droned.

"And…lots of cookies…and ice cream," said Bart, also entranced.

"Arf arf…arf…arf arf arf," said Santa's Little Helper.

"That's good," said Lisa elatedly. "When I snap my fingers, you will no longer be in my power."

She snapped her fingers loudly. Marge and Bart, rather than awaken, continued to stare mindlessly forward. She snapped them again, but failed to rouse her mother and brother from their stupor.

_Okay, maybe hypnotism's not my thing_, she thought.

* * *

Trapped at the end of an alley, Lisa stood with her back pressed against a lumpy brick wall. A tall, lanky shadow rounded the corner, bringing with it a chilly breeze. She didn't need to ask to whom the shadow belonged…it belonged to the one who would destroy her.

First a determined scowl, then a mop of blond hair, appeared in the gloom ahead of her. One fist was clenched, and the other gripped a wooden stick with a deadly, pointed tip.

"No, Buffy!" she pleaded desperately. "Don't kill me! I'm one of your biggest fans!"

"You've been a _very_ bad vampire," said the TV heroine, her movements agile as she closed in on Lisa.

"I'm _not_ a bad vampire! I'd _never_ drink the blood of the living!"

"Then what do you call _that?_" said Buffy, gesturing at a nearby pile of gruesome-looking corpses. "Fruit punch?"

"No!" cried Lisa. "I didn't do it! I'm a vegetarian!"

"Oh, really?" Buffy's free hand was now wrapped tightly around her neck. "Here, vegetarian. Have some _stake!_"

A blast of bitter cold punctured Lisa's chest. She awoke abruptly, and realized that the source of the cold was Dr. Hibbert's stethoscope.

"Heh heh heh," chortled the doctor. "I was afraid you'd never wake up, Lisa."

The blurriness of her vision quickly passed. "Oh, hi," she said flatly. "What's the prognosis, doc?"

"It's like nothing I've seen before," remarked Hibbert, Marge standing worriedly behind his shoulder. "Your temperature is 83 degrees and dropping, but everything else about you is perfectly normal."

"That's good to know," said Lisa. Before she had a chance to engage the physician in small talk, the corner of her eye discovered an alarming fact. Turning her face to the window, she exclaimed, "Omigosh, it's almost dark!"

"Yes, indeed," said Hibbert with a chuckle.

Lisa gaped at the full moon that peeked over Mount Springfield, and felt a strange sympathy with it. "Mom," she asked anxiously, "did Vladimir come?"

"No, honey," her mother replied.

The little vampire girl's heart sank. "He _said_ he would come…"

Hibbert straightened his legs. "She's in no immediate danger, Mrs. Simpson," he stated. "She should sleep at home tonight. If her situation worsens by morning, bring her in."

"Yes, doctor," said Marge, her hands clasped.

Lisa, almost against her will, began to sniff the air. "What's that _smell?_" she wondered.

"Er, I don't smell anything out of the ordinary," said Hibbert.

"Mom, are you cooking something?" asked Lisa. _What a stupid question! That's not food I'm smelling, it's something totally new…_

"Well, the fish guts _have_ been sitting in the garbage can for a few days," Marge admitted.

The more Lisa inhaled the strange, sweet scent, the more she felt like a starving, terrified wolf. "It's coming from _you_, Dr. Hibbert," she said, her eyes widening with panic and hunger. "You, too, Mom. It's…_inside_ of you."

"What's gotten into her?" Marge inquired of the doctor. "Is she hallucinating?"

_Omigod, I know what it is_, thought Lisa, her body quivering wildly. _It's the smell of blood, and it's making me crazy! Vladimir was supposed to save me from this. Where the hell is he?_

"Are you…are you _sure_ you didn't see him?" she asked Marge frantically.

"Sorry, Lisa," was her mother's innocent response. "I guess he forgot."

"Omigod," she muttered, struggling from the bed down to the floor. "I've got…I've got to…"

"You've go to _eat_ something, little girl," said Hibbert, bending over with a patronizing smile. "You need some iron in that _blood_ of yours."

"Blood!" The word forced its way out of Lisa's mouth, as if the hunger within her was bellowing orders. "Blood! _Blood!_"

Unable to stop herself, she lunged, snapping, at Dr. Hibbert's exposed neck…

* * *

To be continued


	12. Chapter 12

Dr. Hibbert wailed in pain as Lisa's fangs found their target, plunging deep into the flesh between his neck and shoulder. She clung to him like a leech as he swiped with his arms to knock her away, shaking blood in all directions. Marge, overwhelmed with terror, seized the blunt object nearest her—a broom—and struck Lisa repeatedly with the business end.

In the next room over, Bart was absorbed in a game of _Kill Zombie Kill_ when Hibbert's screams and Lisa's triumphant squeals caught his attention. After saving the game state, he rushed toward the sound of the noise, only to discover a scene even more blood-soaked than the one on his computer screen.

"Lisa!" he cried out. "I thought you didn't _like_ blood!"

"Bart, _do_ something!" yelled Marge, her attempts to pry Lisa from Hibbert's neck with a broom proving futile.

"I'm on it!" said Bart. In seemingly no time at all he reappeared, slingshot in hand, and sent a cherry bomb hurtling at his sister. The projectile hit her between the eyes, throwing her backwards against a crimson-stained wall.

"Aw, man," Bart groaned. "It was supposed to explode on impact."

Marge, seeing the twin gashes in Dr. Hibbert's skin, fumbled for a sheet to plug up the blood that poured from them. "Heh heh heh," laughed the doctor, delirious and oblivious to the world. "Heh heh heh…heh heh heh…"

When Lisa looked down at the blood that covered her dress, hands, and lips, the horror she felt was equal to the thrill. "Oh my God, what did I just _do?_" she cried, tormented by shame.

"My sister's a _vampire_," said Bart, walking closer to her. "Cool! Does that mean _I'm_ a vampire too?"

"Stay back!" said Lisa, lamplight reflecting off her fangs as she recoiled from the boy. "I'm out of control!"

"Bart, call a doctor!" Marge barked at her son.

"_I'm_…a doctor," Hibbert pushed out of his lungs just before losing consciousness.

With Bart away in search of a telephone with no blood on it, Lisa searched desperately for a route of escape, thinking, _Got to get away from my family…got to find Vladimir!_

When she motioned at the window and made it open with nothing but the power of her mind, it felt as natural as any natural thing she had ever done. She then _flew_ between the curtains and lowered herself to the yard below, thinking nothing of it. _Which way is Vladimir's apartment?_ she asked herself. _If I can remember what it looks like, maybe I can spot it from the sky._

In the dim light she caught a glimpse of Ned Flanders walking by. He stopped, gawked at her pale face and the blood that decorated it, and went into a paroxysm of righteous horror. "EVIL!" he exclaimed, and drew from his back pocket a wooden crucifix about ten inches high.

Lisa stared incredulously at him. "Is that the best you can do, Mr. Flanders?"

"The power of Christ compels you!" ranted Ned, his trembling, white knuckles wrapped around the object of superstition.

"I _wish_," said the girl flatly.

By the time Flanders had pulled from his other pocket a crucifix _twice_ the size of the first, she had already stolen away.

* * *

To be continued


	13. Chapter 13

Angelina Estragon loaded two carrots, a half head of cabbage, several okra pods, numerous green beans, a slice of eggplant, a small tomato, and some endives into her blender, placed the lid on tightly, and pressed the _purée_ button. Once the concoction was thoroughly liquefied, she poured a sample into a glass, raised it to her lips, took a sip, and sighed ecstatically. _I don't know how I'd live without my smoothies_, she said to herself.

A mighty crash, accompanied by tinkling glass, interrupted her enjoyment. _That came from my room!_ she realized, and quickly set down her drink so she could investigate.

On the floor she found all shapes and sizes of glass shards, and sprawled out among them, a very familiar, very sad-looking girl. "Lisa?" she exclaimed. "What's going on? Why the dramatic entrance?"

The visitor stood up and plucked a few shiny slivers from her skin, which healed instantaneously. "You wouldn't believe the time I had trying to find your place," she related. "This is the fourth window I've smashed through tonight."

Angelina smiled knowingly. "Your first solo flight, I take it."

Lisa, remembering her purpose, grabbed the older girl's skirt with both hands. "Vladimir!" she cried out. "Where is he? I need him!"

The red-headed vampire's face began to darken. "I…thought he was with _you_."

"No!" Lisa clung tighter and fought back tears. "He never showed up! And I attacked Dr. Hibbert! I attacked him and _drank his blood!_"

Angelina began to tremble. Lisa couldn't tell if her trembling was prompted by fear, anger, or both. _She doesn't know where he is either_, she thought, despair flooding her soul. _She can't help me. No one can!_

Apparently to replenish her strength, Angelina took up the glass of vegetable smoothie and drained it dry. She then settled into the couch, Lisa joining her. "I'm sorry," she said, her gaze distant. "I'm so sorry this had to happen to you. Vladimir…" Emotion choked her voice. "He told me he had changed. I believed him. He seemed so sincere."

_I can smell the blood of every person in this building_, thought Lisa. _A woman two floors down from us is having her period._

"You see, Lisa," said Angelina, "not all vegetarian vampires are purists. A few like to cheat now and then. Some, like Vladimir, appease their consciences by only turning mortals who _ask_ to be turned. They prey on the homeless, the suicidal, the mentally deficient…and occasionally, the little girl who dreams of being loved by a handsome, non-threatening vampire boy."

Her words stung Lisa like a socket wrench across the face. "No," she said softly, decisively. "Vladimir wouldn't do that to me. He _loves_ me."

"I believed that too," said Angelina, her tone more strident. "But where is he now? Do you think he took a nap and forgot you? Vampires don't need sleep. Do you think he was arrested and hauled off to jail? Handcuffs and iron bars can't hold a vampire. Do you think he fell down a flight of stairs and broke his leg? Vampires heal instantly. Do you think a vampire hunter took him down? There _are_ no vampire hunters."

Tears cascaded freely down Lisa's pale cheeks. "I can't believe it!" she wailed miserably. "Not Vladimir!"

"He _used_ you, Lisa," said Angelina. "But you're not the first, and you won't be the last. I was turned more than 250 years ago, and it was more or less the same story. I never saw the guy again."

Several minutes of uncontrollable sobbing later, Lisa resolved to deal sensibly with the matter at hand. As Angelina wiped her bleary eyes with a cloth, she said, "I hope to God that Vladimir's not like you say, but that's not important now. I can feel it…the thirst…coming over me again. I guess sucking a pint or two out of Dr. Hibbert wasn't enough." She looked pleadingly at Angelina. "Can you help me?"

The older girl smiled warmly, betraying her fangs. "Eventually you'll learn to manage the thirst on your own, but that could take a number of years. Fortunately, a more immediate solution is available."

"Good," said Lisa. "Do it. Do whatever you have to. I don't know how long I can last."

"You'll have to be restrained," said Angelina, rising slowly from the couch. "You may not like it."

"I may not like slashing open the necks of people I care about," said Lisa sharply, "but that's what's in store for me. Get on with it."

Angelina let out a sigh. "All right, Lisa, here's what you do. First, go and stand in front of the kitchen counter."

The word _go_ was enough to spur Lisa to action. She was next to the counter within seconds, eagerly awaiting more instructions.

"Now close your eyes," Angelina guided her, "stick your arms straight out with the wrists facing up, and rest them on the counter."

Lisa obeyed. "I hope you know what you're doing," she said.

"Be right back," said Angelina. "Don't move."

_Don't move_, Lisa thought bitterly. _Easy for you to say. I hope this isn't another…omigosh, the man next door has the most fragrant blood…I can feel myself going…just like before, the wild, blood-crazed animal is taking over…_

She heard a brief sound of metal against metal nearby. "What're you gonna do, handcuff me?" she asked idly. "I thought handcuffs didn't work on vampires."

"Handcuffs?" said Angelina, emerging from her room with a hammer in one hand, and a pair of thin metal spikes in the other. "Who said anything about handcuffs?"

* * *

THE END


End file.
